


He did not leave you very much, not even laughter

by thought



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Post-Spyfall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: "Maybe another time," The Doctor says, when they ask to visit her home planet.Naturally, the questions don't stop there.
Relationships: The Doctor & The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor/Fitz Kreiner
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	He did not leave you very much, not even laughter

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel of a sort to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960071). Just assume Fitz started traveling with Thirteen sometime not too long before Resolution.  
> I have yet to see anything beyond Spyfall Part 2, but this would not leave me alone until I wrote it.

"Maybe another time," The Doctor says, when they ask to visit her home planet. Fitz gives her a strange look, but gets distracted pretty fast with the laser cufflinks and the button camera he'd snagged before C had been shot. Graham's laser shoes are lying, kicked to the side of the consul room, and Ryan's pretty sure if Fitz stares any longer at them he'll summon them over with his brain.

The Doctor pokes aimlessly at the consul, Yaz continues space-googling Ada Lovelace on her mobile and Graham dozes slumped against the wall. Ryan paces from one end of the room to the other, feeling out-of-place and uncertain. Usually by now everyone would have gone off to do their own thing, but seeing first Yaz and then The Doctor just straight up disappear in front of him has left Ryan a little hesitant to go off on his own.

"Ok," Yaz says finally. "So... that bloke. The Master. Can we ask about him?"

Graham jerks awake, looking up. The Doctor goes still, not looking at any of them. There's a long silence, and finally Fitz bursts out: "Ok, I'm sorry, I don't want to be a prick, but... The Master went absolutely bloody off his rocker, right? It's not just me? He's gone and *lost* it."

Yaz looks over at him, startled. "Wait, exactly how well did you two know him before?"

"I-- definitely did not as well as she did," Fitz says hurriedly, holding up his hands and making a face. "Not even close. Passing acquaintances, really."

"Doctor, you've fought him before, haven't you?" Yaz says.

"Yes," says The Doctor, snapping back into motion and turning around.

"Amongst other things," Fitz says, and ducks just in time to dodge the custard cream The Doctor throws at his head.

"Yeah," says Ryan. "That tracks."

Yaz looks horrified. "Does it?!"

"It wasn't like that," The Doctor says.

"It was exactly like that," Fitz says.

"Stop helping," The Doctor snaps.

"They grew up together, chased each other across time and space, it's all very dramatic and they're both really obnoxious about it, it's actually really uncomfortable."

"Ugh," The Doctor mutters. Then, frowning, "The war did... a lot of damage to everyone. This is better than two regenerations ago, let me tell you."

“He seemed fine at your wedding," Fitz grumbles.

"Um, can we come back to this?" Yaz says quickly. "You still haven't said anything about being married."

"Different wife," Fitz says.

"That helps, thanks," Yaz says.

"Wait," The Doctor says. "Are you telling me he broke out of the time lock and then tore another hole in spacetime to crash ...that, of all things? I barely remember-- yeah, he was there, wasn't he?"

"In all fairness, you were pretty ill by that point," Fitz says. "And obviously I had no idea who he was at the time. But I saw him near the end of the war and recognized his regeneration."

"Can we ask about the war, if not the marriages?" Yaz asks. Graham gives her a Look.

"Oh, it's nothing really," The Doctor says. "Just another of our little trips, hang about in the TARDIS long enough and you're bound to stumble into a few wars."

"Suppose so," says Graham, a bit too lightly. Fitz's face is doing something complicated. Ryan thinks about the Doctor's cold fury at the Dalek back at New years, and the blank, numb terror in Fitz's eyes when they'd first heard that awful grating “Exterminate!" This isn't the first time they've mentioned The War, and Ryan's been collecting mental puzzle pieces like fragile shards of glass for the past few months. Yaz wants to know all of it, Graham doesn't want to know any. Ryan's good at putting things together, and he can be patient when he needs to.

"But all three of you fought in at least one together," Yaz says. "Did The Master travel with you, then?"

"Not... exactly," The Doctor says. "Though I did keep her locked up for a few decades, so that was sort of like traveling together. Traveling the twists and turns of academia."

"Nobody needs to know this!" Fitz sings, putting his hands over his ears and pretending to look sick.

The Doctor throws her sonic screwdriver at him, this time. "I'm throwing you out into space," she announces.

"This is revenge," Fitz says.

"For what?!"

"Having to put up with you mooning after The Master. And Sabbath. And that one time I met your brother."

"You've got siblings?!" Yaz exclaims.

"Are there embarrassing stories, then?" Graham asks. "I assume he's older. Now that I know, you absolutely seem like a younger sibling type."

"Oy!" The doctor says. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're right," Yaz says. "Oh my God."

"Can we please meet your brother?" Ryan says, clasping his hands together. "I won't ask for anything else this year."

"You absolutely cannot," The Doctor says.

"I can’t believe I never thought about you having siblings," Yaz says. "I should’ve guessed, after you told us about your seven grans."

"Your seven what now?" Fitz says, bemused.

"Technically not untrue," The Doctor chirps. "I went back through the loom records when I was at the Academy and found them all."

Fitz blinks. "Yeah, all right, that's... creepily endearing. Which I imagine is exactly what you were like as a kid."

"Rude," The Doctor says.

"Loom?" Graham asks, uncertainly.

"I'm sorry, would you rather we carry around internal parasites for months on end and then tear ourselves apart plopping them out?"

"Ohhhh my God," Ryan groans, covering his face. "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little."

"I'm sorry I asked," Graham says. "Sincerely, I am."

"Who's the rude one now?" Fitz says.

"Ok, ok, sorry, sorry, everyone approaches the miracle of life differently, nobody's judging, this is a judgement free TARDIS. Besides, my lot were the only ones who used looms so maybe we were the weird ones."

"I'm trying to imagine how that would work," says Graham. "And I'm honestly coming up blank."

“Doctor," says Fitz. "Can I... talk to you, a minute?"

"Busy!" The Doctor says. Yaz makes a distressed little noise.

"No, really," says Fitz.

"Really busy," The Doctor says. "Anyway, we're we talking about......."

"The Master," Ryan offers, uncertain what's just happened but willing to allow The Doctor her distractionary tactics. "Wedding guest or no, he doesn't seem like a very good friend." He doesn't really think The Doctor needs the same advice his mum gave him as a bullied child in this case, but sometimes it seems like that's the exact sort of advice she needs.

"Nah, he's terrible," The Doctor says. "Honestly, 0/10, would not recommend. Always following me around, making a mess of all my clean-ups." Her laugh is high-pitched and forced and she drops down so fast to the floor that Ryan thinks she's fallen until he sees her pulling up one of the panels.

"Jesus Christ," says Fitz. "Can we please just... I really need you to tell me I'm wrong about something because my brain's just run off and made some really... awful assumptions?"

"Yeah," says The Doctor, dropping down beneath the floor and clattering out of sight. "You're absolutely right, and we're not talking about it. Ever."

"Right about what?" Yaz demands, turning on Fitz. "She said 'were'."

"It's..." Fitz presses the heels of his hands against his forehead. "Look, I'm probably wrong, anyway. And it's not my story to tell, I suppose. At least partly. Look, I'm sorry. I've gotta go... not get drunk, because that would be selfish. But I need to be somewhere else. You lot-- pick out your next destination, yeah? Cocktail bar or... spa, or whatever. Or is it a school night?"

Ryan flinches.

"That was uncalled for," Graham says, gently. "Go on, go find a guitar, yeah? We'll keep an eye on the Doc. Or an ear, I suppose."

Fitz looks startled, then ducks his head, shoves his hands in his pockets. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks."

*

Later, The Doctor is avoidant and mercurial, and Fitz is caught between defending her to the others -- "Just because you all treat it like a field trip doesn't mean she's actually obligated to be your primary school teacher" -- and wanting to pin The Doctor down and demand answers himself. They haven't reached the 'threatening to break his fingers' stage yet, nor are their any sad violins and uneaten meals, but Fitz doesn't yet know what this Doctor's equivalents might be.

Fitz has some guesses about what's going on, but they're all horrific and none of them make much sense. Gallifrey is The Master's home as much as it is The Doctor's, and when it all came down to the wire they'd both thrown their lives into defending it. That being said, the war did strange things to everyone. Everyone's capable of terrible things if pushed far enough and if you're extra lucky you've got an evil one-armed personification of this realization running around somewhere out there. The Master never got an invitation to that particular club.

Fitz spends hours sitting on his bed in the TARDIS trying to pick apart his memories, highlight what was normal before the war, but there are so many places where time and memory are tangled and blurred, years of horrors and trauma and the natural forgetfulness of time passing. He remembers playfully scolding The Doctor out of a public fountain, the taste of chocolate and smell of sunscreen. He remembers sitting huddled in the consul room, everything chilly and quiet with the cotton padding of morning while The Doctor tried to pretend he hadn't spent the night screaming again. He remembers standing in a doorway, the smell of unwashed people and horses clogging his nostrils while The Doctor walked away from him down the cobblestone street, looking elegant and untouchable as he laughed on the arm of a much larger man. It's impossible to fit those moments into the same narrative as worlds burning and time shredding itself apart and breathing ash that one could only hope was just metal and dirt. Impossible, too, to go from all of that to this new world of frenetic movement and 19-year-old kids all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and somehow still smart and brave and mature, tea at Yaz's and see you next weekend and off you go. None of this, since finding The Doctor again, has felt entirely real.

They'd been well on their way to feeling each other out, learning to navigate around their new edges and soft places, but then The Master appeared and it was like they were strangers, like they were distant flatmates sharing a space but not a life. At least, he thinks bitterly, she hasn't suggested he ought to go settle down in fucking Sheffield. Yet.

The TARDIS hums welcome and reassurance wherever he goes now, like she's making up for The Doctor's distance. Or like she's feeling just as excluded as Fitz is. He's glad, either way. The TARDIS has been home and creator and co-conspirator and guardian when The Doctor couldn't be.

Eventually, he knows, something will have to give. It always does. Even at her worst, The Doctor never tells him to go away once he's found her. He brings his guitar and sits on the other side of the room, playing songs heavy with gentle nostalgia and distant familiarity, and wonders how many times someone can lose everything before they decide it's easier if they've got nothing to lose in the first place.


End file.
